


Let's Forget About Last Night...

by barcabrony (freolia)



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Angst, Bad Ideas, Drinking, Gambling, Las Vegas, Las Vegas Wedding, M/M, Mainly crack, SORRY STEVIE, Spanish National Team, im sorry, la roja, so not funny, why does stuff like this happen at 4 in the morning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 12:46:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6907861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freolia/pseuds/barcabrony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>La Roja take a team-bonding trip to Las Vegas. Naturally, everyone completely loses their heads.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's Forget About Last Night...

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies, because this was an impulse write which wouldn't stop bugging me in the very early morning. As such, the grammar is probably a nightmare, things might not flow properly, etc., and I didn't really take into account which players would be active at the same time. So I guess this is set sometime before Euro 2012, possibly just after the WC? I'm really sorry in advance.

Vicente sighed as he stared at the neon lights over his head. He was getting too old for this nonsense. The players of _La Selección_ stood with their noses pressed against the coach windows, staring hungrily up at the lighting for Caesar’s Palace like puppies. He mused that puppies probably had more sense, as Fàbregas got over excited and smashed his head against the window, turning to whine at Piqué.

Whose stupid idea was it to come to Las Vegas?

*

“Alright guys, can I have your attention for a second?” He raised his voice slightly, and sighed as only Xavi and Iker actually turned to him. Everyone else kept staring at where Ramos was performing some complicated, gyrating victory dance which only he seemed to understand, occasionally glancing hopefully at Torres. Villa wolf-whistled sarcastically (although he managed to make everything seem sarcastic, so it was hard to tell). Vicente resisted the urge to face palm. 

He cleared his throat loudly, silently thanking the heavens for Iker, when he raised his captain voice: “That’s enough, Sergio!” 

“But, Iker-” Ramos’ whinging was silenced with a glare, and he looked down, chastened. Vicente smiled at Iker tiredly.

“Before you all go wild, can I just ask that you keep it low profile? I don’t want to see you in the papers for drunken assaults, or getting handsy with the waitresses.”

“Or each other,” Xavi muttered, glaring darkly at Torres. The freckled striker looked back innocently. He was almost convincing until he glanced over at Ramos in a look that said everything.

Vicente didn’t say anything else. He sighed in defeat as he wandered off to find a quiet bar, fully intending to get drunk.

He was definitely getting too old for this.

*

Iker grimaced as Sergio cheered, “Let’s all get pissed!”, not even waiting for the door to swing shut behind their coach.

There was an answering shout from too many of the players for Iker to feel comfortable, and he knew this night wouldn’t end well. 

Fernando was the first to join Sergio, instantly followed by Juan. Iker rolled his eyes. That kid was in way too deep. Especially with someone like Fer, who was practically married to Sergio. The two Davids joined them, as well as Pepe, Geri and Cesc.

God, that group could – would – be a nightmare. There was no way Iker was going anywhere near them. They bounced off, already chanting and laughing obnoxiously. He rubbed his temples pre-emptively, trying to put off the impending headache. 

“Unbelievable.” Xavi grumbled next to him, and he looked at his best friend. 

“What? They’ll cause a scene, and tarnish our reputation for pure football!” Iker restrained his laugh at the outrage in Xavi’s voice; the movement of his eyebrows promised destruction.

“Come on, Xavi, they can’t be that bad?” Iker tried to reason, a smile growing in his voice. They both knew he was lying.

“Sergio? With Cesc and Geri? And Villa? You have got to be joking. We’ll be lucky if they don’t start a gang war.” Xavi stared at him seriously.

“David doesn’t even drink. He’ll keep them under control.” Iker replied, feeling a lot less confident than he sounded. “Why don’t you go have fun? Maybe try the slot machines?”

Xabi looked up from reading a pamphlet on safe gambling. “That might not be such a good idea. Did you know people can lose money gambling?” He stared at Iker sincerely.

Iker couldn’t figure out if he was joking or not. “That’s… kind of the point, Xabi.”

“Hmm. Interesting hypothesis. But then why-” Iker sighed, and pushed the two of them towards the casino. 

“Go. Have fun.” If Xavi was capable of fun. He wondered if he should have been worried about the lack of resistance from the pair of them. Andrés tagged along behind them, smiling slightly at Iker, and he relaxed slightly. Andrés was sensible at least.

That just left…

He turned, and was greeted with five bewildered stares. How had he been left with babysitting duty again? The young players looked at him with literal stars in their eyes (what a weird ass ceiling, he briefly mused), and he resisted the urge to sigh.

“Urm, I don’t know if you guys want to…” He made a vague motion towards the casino with his hand, and ten eyes followed the motion before returning to his face, like cats with a laser. So no way of offloading them then. What was he supposed to do with a bunch of kids?

Maybe Sergio had had the right idea.

“Shall we go get something to drink?” He asked, already moving towards where he knew there was a bar. He just hoped they were old enough to legally buy alcohol. He didn’t really care, to be honest.

*

David laughed as Geri slammed his hand on the bar again, calling for another drink. He was really looking forward to seeing the massive defender drunk, but it might take a while. He’d happily fund it if necessary. One of the many joys of not drinking, was having an empty memory card in your phone and stupid teammates.

Of course, not many people took as long to get drunk as Geri did. Cesc was already hunched next to Sergio. The two of them were whispering together and occasionally throwing evil glances to where Gerard was downing another vodka and coke when they weren’t wailing along to the singing on the dance tracks. 

Fernando and Pepe were laughing and trying to talk over the loud music of the dance floor behind them. Fer tried to readjust himself on his stool and slipped off, catching himself at the last minute. He was tipsy already, his cat-like elegance quickly vanishing. Pepe cackled with laughter, almost falling off his own seat as he lost his balance, and Fer joined in laughing, not even blushing.

David rubbed his hands together in glee. Tonight would be hilarious. 

Where was Silva? He’d been looking forward to a catch up session as neither of them particularly liked alcohol. Silva had ordered a gin and tonic tonight, but he never went further. 

He quickly scanned the room, and felt his mouth drop open in shock. Which quickly turned to laughter.

Silva had established himself on the dance floor. Which meant that everyone had retreated at least two feet from the midfielder to avoid getting hit by the flailing arms. His limbs were shooting out at all angles as he “moved” to the rhythm like a demented spider. He was already attracting glares from other dancers but he obviously didn’t care. 

To his credit, David did manage to stop laughing eventually, bent over the bar as he tried to recover his breath. Silva had only sipped at his drink – he was more of a lightweight than Fer. And a lot funnier when he was drunk as well. 

This needed to be kept and treasured. David pulled his phone out of his pocket before turning back with the video turned on. He kept his hand on the bar, and was glad because he almost fell over laughing when he saw how the dancing had moved on. Was that supposed to be the worm?

He gleefully kept the camera focused. He went to take a sip of his lemonade when Silva got to his feet and _winked_ at him and he almost choked, spitting out his drink on Cesc who had silently moved to stand next to him. 

To his credit, he didn’t look bothered, just laughed wildly as he said, “I guess we know whether David likes to spit or swallow!” Sergio cackled next to him, although he quickly lost interest when Fernando staggered to his feet with an uncontrolled grace.

“You! Ramos! We’re going to dance.” He announced, and Sergio just dumbly nodded in agreement. Cesc laughed obnoxiously, before stumbling away. That kid was so wasted. David checked his watch. It had only taken twenty minutes for them to get to this stage.

He watched Sergio and Fernando saunter off with a smug grin before having to look away in disgust. That was just obscene. Maybe if he complained…

Speaking of obscene. His attention was drawn back to Silva, still thrashing, who caught him looking and slowly caught his bottom lip in his teeth before dragging it free and wandering over. 

“You enjoying the show?” He purred, and David felt a shiver run up his spine.

“Yeah, I always enjoyed watching the octopi when I went to the aquarium.” He replied flatly, trying not to respond too much.

“Well, if I’m an octopus, I must have tentacles and suckers. And you know what they say about tentacles-“

David stood up abruptly from his seat and stalked off to the bathroom. That was too fucking weird. Besides, he wasn’t as single as he used to be when Silva talked like that. They would both only regret it later if anything happened between them; they’d left that behind years ago. They both have other people now, and the alcohol is clouding Silva’s judgement. 

David sighed, his humour vanishing quickly as he splashed cold water on his face and fixed his hair. It was times like these that he regretted not drinking alcohol. 

*

Fernando swayed in Sergio’s vision, and he grinned at the other man. He sure knew how to move (or was it the alcohol? The whole room seemed to be swaying.)

Something got stuck in his throat when he opened his mouth to speak. He meant to say something at that moment about how he liked him, _really_ liked him, how the time that they spent together was never enough and he was always counting down to their next encounter, that the striker was the most gorgeous man in the world. Maybe something about love. (He hadn’t really figured it out fully.)

It was something else entirely that actually came out his mouth, and a moment later he realised he probably shouldn’t say something like that while drunk. 

He didn’t try and take it back.

Fernando stared at him shocked under the flashing lights, before he nodded, a crazy smile growing on his face.

“Yes.” 

That one word was all he ever needed from Fer. One of them moved in for a kiss – maybe it was both of them? – but Sergio never remembered which one of them started stuff like that. It just seemed to happen. It wasn’t romantic, all teeth and tongue, but it was what they needed. Cesc whooped from the bar, and Sergio aimed a middle finger at him without looking.

They separated briefly, eyes locked, never getting enough of each other. 

“We should go.” Sergio suggested, not sure where they would go for what he was thinking of.

“Let me go tell Pepe first.” Fer breathed back, and he nodded dumbly. Nobody else could steal his words like Fer could. 

Their hands drifted apart (the contact missed immediately), and Sergio watched breathless as Fer spoke to his friend. Impatience quickly turned into confusion as the goalkeeper stood and followed him back over.

“I can help!” Pepe shouted to him, and now Sergio was really confused. “We’ll need to buy some stuff though!”

“Where can we even get that sort of thing?” Sergio yelled over the crowd, and Pepe grinned.

“There’s a shop a couple of blocks away if you know where to look. It’s disguised! We should get someone else as well!”

“I bet Juan would love to join in!” Fer beamed, and the three of them looked at the winger. He was really quite pretty, Sergio thought absent-mindedly.

*

“This isn’t really that hard.” Xabi idly commented as he pulled the lever once more. He knew he’d won more than he’d put in. And it was really quite fun, this gambling thing. He didn’t understand why some people had such a problem with it. He could stop whenever he liked. 

There was no response from the machine next to him, and he looked over to see Xavi glaring at the display, eyebrows pulled together in concentration. A growing pile of coins was lying at the bottom of his machine. 

“You’re doing quite well there.” He tried again, and raised his eyebrows as he was shushed. Xavi didn’t even look up, but Andrés gave him an apologetic smile from where he was hovering behind.

“You know that you can’t change the result by glaring at it, right? It’s only a machine, Xavi.”

Finally he looked up in annoyance. “My mind is stronger than some puny machine.”

”I don’t doubt it.” He replied sarcastically. Xavi just gave him a look, translated roughly to ‘ _shut-the-fuck-up_ ’. “Should we try a different game?” He asked, motioning to the other side of the room where card dealers stood by a variety of tables.

Xavi scowled, and tried to pick up all his coins. “I will defeat them all as well.”

He stalked off, and Xabi followed with a bemused expression, shrugging his shoulders at Andrés. What could possibly go wrong with a statement like that?

*

Isco stared wide-eyed at the figure across the room. 

“This was a bad idea.” Alvaro whispered next to him, and he couldn’t help but agree.

“Who even is that?” David asked, motioning to the person that Iker was currently attached to. In several different places. Isco didn’t want to think about most of them.

“I don’t think Iker knows him.” Isco finally said, unable to look away from the scene as he answered the goalkeeper. 

“How much did he even have to drink?” 

“I don’t think it was a lot…” They all fall silent as their captain detached himself briefly from his partner to down the rest of his drink before ordering another and going back for more. All seemingly without taking a breath.

Alvaro tugged on Isco’s sleeve nervously. “I’m scared.” 

“I think we all are, Alvi.”

Jesé leaned over. “With the soul patch, does that guy look a bit like-“

“Nope. No. Not at all.” Isco cut him off before he finished the thought. He turned around, finally tearing his eyes away from the scene. 

“Who knew Iker was such a manwhore though?” David finally said in the awkward silence, and they all hummed in traumatised agreement. Some things, they just didn’t need – or want – to see.

*

“Cesc!” Geri yelled across the bar, despite sitting next to him. 

“Other side, big guy!” He yelled back, not wanting to be left out of the noise. He was still miffed that Sergio had disappeared and taken Fer, Pepe and Juan with him. It was just the two of them and the Davids now, and Silva had fallen asleep on Villa’s shoulder and started drooling about half an hour ago, while Villa sat and brooded. Like always. He was no fun.

“Ah, Cescito…” Geri sighed, dropping his head on Cesc’s shoulder, almost knocking him over. He was _heavy_.

Cesc tried to pat his hair from the awkward angle, one arm trapped against his body, and ended up just patting his beard instead. He sighed and gave up, reaching for the snacks the bartender had brought him. What he wouldn’t give for a doughnut right now instead of these dried up peanuts…

“When did we get old, Cesc?” The tone of the defender’s voice had changed, not just cuddly but overly melodramatic now instead.

“What do you mean, Geri?”

“Look at us! Sitting at a bar, eating peanuts…” Geri moaned, despite the fact he wasn’t touching the peanuts. Or sitting. He was practically lying on Cesc at this angle. 

“And he grew up! Our little, mute baby grew up without us to raise him! We’re such awful parents…” 

It took Cesc a moment to realise that his friend was talking about Leo. It was a sad day when Cesc had to be the responsible one in a conversation. So he wasn’t.

“We never saw him ride a bike, Geri! We didn’t assist his first goal…” He whined back.

“Didn’t take him to his first party…”

“Didn’t give him his first drink…”

“I swear we did that one! Tequila, that was fucking funny…”

“We should call him!” It was Cesc’s idea for some reason. Geri’s eyes lit up. 

“Yes! He loves hearing from us!”

“Who wouldn’t?” Cesc pointed out, and Geri nodded solemnly in agreement. 

Cesc dialled the number, and turned on speakerphone. 

The dialling tone could be heard once, twice, three times, four times, before he finally picked up. 

“The fuck is this?” The voice on the other end was tired, not angry, but neither of them paid any attention.

“HI LEO!” They yelled at the phone in unison, oblivious to the angry glares from other customers.

“…Of course it’s you two.” The voice was weary now.

“Leo! We just called to say-“

“We’re really sorry! Please for- *hic*-give us!” Geri managed semi-seriously before bursting out laughing at the hiccup in the middle. “I’m drunk!” He whisper-shouted at Cesc.

“Nothing would have given that away.” Leo said.

“Don’t you sass your father, young man!” Cesc giggled.

There was an audible sigh from the phone. “It’s four in the morning. What the hell are you two ringing for?”

“Son-” Cesc began, before breaking off in a fit of laughter. 

“We didn’t raise you right, Leo. We’re sorry we weren’t *hic* there for you.” Geri finished mournfully.

Nothing could be heard from the phone, and Cesc worried that Leo had hung up on them. 

“Is David there?” He finally said.

Geri wolf whistled at the same time that Cesc said, “Why do you want to talk to _David_ , Leo?” He smirked at Geri. “Is he your BOYFRIEND?”

There was a sound similar to skin slapping against skin, sort of like a hand hitting a forehead. 

“Just give the phone to David, please?”

Geri took the phone, disgruntled, and slid it up to Villa, who was still glaring into his drink.

“Bitchface! _Es para ti_!” Geri cackled as Villa turned his glare on the pair of them instead, picking up the phone.

“Hola? Oh, hey Leo. Oh. Yeah, I see. No, that’s cool. Ok, no problem. Talk to you later.” He pressed the end call button, and Cesc booed loudly, quickly joined by Geri. 

Villa carefully placed Silva’s head onto the bar from his shoulder, before standing up and walking over to the pair of them.

He put the phone back in front of Cesc, and slapped Geri across the back of the head, before doing the same to Cesc.

“You two are dreadful.” He said flatly, before walking away, ignoring the cries of outrage from both of them.

“What a dick.” Geri grumbled at his retreating figure, before the despairing cry: 

“Cesc, our baby grew up so fast!”

*

Juan frowned at the ground. This sucked.

“Does the couple have the rings?” Pepe shouted before Fer slapped his arm, giggling. His voice echoed in the nearly empty chapel.

“Sergio should have them. Sese?” He wobbled as he turned his head too quickly. 

Sergio shook his head, confused. “I swear you had them! Did you lose them already? Don’t make me get a divorce!”

Juan wanted to scream. “You’re not even married yet, how can you get a divorce?” He said instead. He deserved a medal for the way he controlled his anger then. Maybe if Fer saw how stupid Ramos was, he wouldn’t marry him.

Fer pouted adorably, ignoring Juan, before Pepe slapped his shoulder. “I’m kidding, I’ve got the rings.”

Why had Juan agreed to come to this? Fer glanced at him before looking back at Sergio, and his heart jumped. Oh yeah. Now he remembered. And at least this way, he could be the best friend, the confidante for Fer when this excuse for a marriage didn’t work out. He could be the shoulder to cry on. He almost smiled at the thought. 

“Juan! Stop plotting my murder and sign the document instead!” Sergio yelled, and Fer whacked his arm as well.

“Quiet, Sese! Iker might find us before it’s official.”

“Pfffft. Iker can’t stop us. And neither can you, Juanita, stop looking at me like that!” Sergio sniggered, and Juan forced himself to unclench his fists. There was no way Fer could love this guy. 

But he stood and took the pen that Pepe ‘handed’ to him (after he’d dodged having it shoved up his nose) and signed the document with a fake smile on his face. There was no way this could work out. Sergio wasn’t good enough for Fer – not that he _was_ , but Fernando obviously had so much more in common with himself.

His prayers were answered when Pepe made an _‘oh-shit-oops’_ face after bringing the certificate up to his face to squint at it. 

“Slightly awkward moment here, but we can’t finish this.” 

Sergio made a face and glared at Fer. “I told you he wasn’t ordained! I wanted that nice man at the marriage office, but you said ‘noooo, Sergio, let Pepe do it!’” 

“That guy had a swastika tattooed on his bicep, Sergio! He told you to go fuck yourself when you asked for a tissue! And I don’t sound like that! My voice is sexier than that.” Fer argued back as Pepe muttered, “I am _too_ ordained, I took an online course.”

“Well, I thought he was alright! Are you saying my voice isn’t sexy?” Sergio frowned childishly at his fiancé. It was confusing how they managed to have two arguments at the same time and still keep track of both.

Juan grinned at the chaos. There was no way this would work out.

None of them noticed the drunken figure at the other end of the room, until he yelled, “Sergio Ramos Garcia! What do you think you’re doing!”

They all turned to see Iker clutching at one of the pews uncertainly. Juan’s jaw dropped – the goalkeeper had a red mark forming on his throat, and his hair was mussed, his expression crazed.

Sergio seemed unfazed. “Hey, Iker!” He beamed, grabbing onto Fer for support. “You’re just in time, me and Fer are getting married!” The two of them giggled happily. Juan threw up a little in his mouth. 

Iker tried to say something a couple of times, face going through several different expressions before he settled on acceptance. “Ok then.” There was a pause, before: “My little _nene _’s grown into a man!” Iker made a sound somewhere between a sob and a growl. “I’ll be watching you, Torres! One step out of line…” He fell sideways onto the seating. The four of them stared at him until he snored.__

Juan looked up at movement from the door. The younger players were all crowded around the entrance, wide-eyed at the scene inside. 

"Oh, the school boy choir as well!" Fer snickered, and Sergio howled with laughter next to him, draping himself over Fer's shoulders even more. It was getting hard to tell where one of them ended and the other began. Seriously, that joke wasn’t even funny.

Pepe cleared his throat in mock annoyance. “As I was about to say, we need another witness to sign the register.”

Iker shot upright from his sleep. “David, get your perfect ass back here!” He stared around in confusion. “You aren’t David.” He stated, staring at David De Gea, who just blinked. Nobody said anything. Until Sergio exploded with laughter five seconds later.

“Why is Iker talking about David?” Fer whispered to Sergio, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“He’s still hung up Beckham. We all used to bet on whether they were fucking.” Sergio whispered back, equally obnoxious.

Iker didn’t register either of them but stumbled up to the front. “Where do I sign?” He questioned, and Juan thought for a moment that he’d actually understood what was happening.

Pepe pointed at the piece of paper, and Iker scribbled his signature at the bottom. It was sort of on the line.

“I’m expecting my pay check soon!” He shouted as he staggered back out of the room. “Tell Perez I want double, or I make up stories about him to the journalists. Like, like…” He paused, his face screwed up in concentration. “Like he called Mou a whingy little bitch! That should kick off a shitstorm…”

Juan wondered sometimes if all the pressure of captaining a country and the biggest club in the world had gone to Iker’s head.

Sergio yelled a good-bye after his club captain which was less than complimentary, and Fernando laughed, high-pitched and wild.

“Are we married now?” Sergio turned and demanded of Pepe, who looked at him confused for a second.

“Married? Oh, yeah! Kiss the bride, or do whatever with him.” He cackled wildly before collapsing, drooling slightly in his drunken sleep. 

Sergio looked at him curiously for a moment, nudging him with his foot to no response, before Fernando tugged on his arm like a child. 

“Come ON, Sese, we can do anything now. We’re married!” He whispered the last part like a secret.

Juan didn’t bother trying to explain that that wasn’t how the law worked as he watched the two of them laugh their way out of the chapel, past the babies of the team who just stared at them in disbelief.

Juan wondered when this trip had turned into a crappy version of ‘The Hangover’.

*

Xabi stared intently at the roulette wheel as the ball bounced over the tiles. Come on, red fourteen. He took a gulp of his whiskey to calm his nerves.

“Black twenty five.” The casino worker stated, pulling away his last remaining chips with the sweeping thingy they all seemed to have. He needed to check what those were called.

He resisted the urge to scream – that would be undignified. It didn’t matter that he’d bet the last of his latest pay check on that number. Luck didn’t exist apparently.

He looked around in annoyance. Where were Xavi and Andrés?

There was a scream of fury from behind him, and he pulled himself away from the table reluctantly, where the last of his money had gone. He would know that scream anywhere. 

Xavi was seething as he stared at the two die on the table, and Xabi almost laughed.

“Snake eyes.” Xavi’s eyebrows bunched in anger and he took a step back. This could turn ugly. 

“Xavi, calm down.” He immediately received a death glare.

“I’m focusing. Be quiet.” He turned back to the table. “Two hundred on.”

He was handed the die, and shook them before throwing them with probably too much force. Xabi would need to look up how hard they should be thrown for optimum outcome.

“Eleven. Throw again.”

Xavi didn’t smile, but the storm of his eyebrows receded slightly. He didn’t look away from the table but waved his hand in an agitated gesture that Xabi didn’t understand until a waiter in a tux showed up with another glass.

Xavi took it and threw his head back, downing the vodka in one gulp. He didn’t flinch. He flung the die once more.

“Snake eyes.” Somebody muttered something insulting across the table about a record number of snake eyes; Xabi didn’t really catch it (or care), but his teammate’s eyes narrowed. 

“I’ll show you record numbers!” He yelled. “I’ve made more passes in the last two weeks than you have in your life!” 

The man who had spoken, shrugged in bored agreement. “Probably.”

“Well… you’ve got cheap shoes!” Xabi pulled Xavi away before he got in a fight over someone’s shoes, as the other man had set his drink down in anger and started rolling his sleeves up.

(From where Xabi was standing, they were pretty cheap. Honestly, shoes were the best way to know someone. He personally always had tailored Italian leather.)

“Xavi, seriously. Calm. You can’t just insult people’s shoes like that.” He tried to sooth, until he saw the scene in front of him. What the…

Andrés was sat at the blackjack table, cool as anything, with a huge pile of chips in front of him.

Three other players were staring at him in awe. He said something, and the dealer frowned, before pushing another pile of chips towards him. His fan club slobbered and clapped. 

“Andrés. I need some of your chips.” Xavi marched ahead and stared at his midfield partner resolutely.

Andrés smiled cautiously back. “What happened to yours?” 

Xavi didn’t answer, just stood there in ominous silence. Xabi was tempted to run from the oncoming explosion. 

“You can’t use mine, I’m on a winning streak. Just use some collateral. Haven’t you got cars or something?”

The eyebrows slammed together once more, and Xabi took that as his cue to leave. Collateral though, that wasn’t a bad idea…

*

“Cesc!” He turned at the sound of his name, and automatically smiled. Iker was walking towards him. Walking might have been generous for what Iker was doing, but Cesc liked to be generous.

“Hey, Iker.” He replied, his voice somewhere between nervous and over-excited and way too high-pitched. 

“Cescito, little Cesc…” Iker trailed off for a moment, his eyes losing focus, before concentrating on Cesc again. “I need a favour.”

“What is it? I’ll do it!” He enthused. He liked it when Iker trusted him with stuff. Geri snorted in his sleep, something that sounded suspiciously like ‘suck up’. Cesc kicked him, but the defender just twitched and moved his head slightly on the bar surface.

“I’m lonely, Cesc…” Iker began before surging forward and grabbing the front of his shirt. “Will you stop me being lonely?”

Cesc gulped, because maybe their faces were a bit too close for him to be comfortable. Who would he be if he said no?

But Villa picked that moment to walk back in, and he immediately narrowed his eyes in confusion. “Iker?”

The goalkeeper turned at the sound of his voice, something lightening in his face immediately. “David! I’ve been looking for you!” It was a bit annoying how happy he sounded to see the other man.

Villa eyed his throat, where there was an obvious love bite, and something shifted in his face. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Sure looks like it.”

Iker frowned, and Cesc frowned in sympathy. He shouldn’t have to frown alone. 

“Have you been drinking?” Villa asked redundantly when nothing else was said, and Iker giggled in response. 

“Maybe a little bit… I missed you.” He confided, his voice low and pining. Cesc suddenly felt really bad; he was getting an idea of what was going on here.

David sighed. “Who let you drink this much?” He only got a shrug in response. “Well, what about Cesc? Who let _you_ drink that much?”

Cesc stared at Villa in confusion. “I haven’t drunk anything.” Villa had been sitting in the same room as him all evening, surely he’d known?

He’s greeted with a slack-jawed stare. “Then, what… why… what?!” Villa finally managed, face screwed up in some weird combination of anger and confusion.

“David! Where were you?” Iker patted at his chest pathetically, distracting him. Geri chose that moment to jerk awake.

“Wha-?!” He shouted too loudly, before taking in his surroundings and laughing. “I dreamed that Ramos and Fernando got married. It was so weird…” He sniggered, and Iker looked up, eyes bleary.

“But they did get married.”

Villa put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “No, Iker, they didn’t. Let’s get you back to the hotel room, come on…”

“But they _did_!” He whinged, before stopping. “David, I missed you.” 

Villa sighed again. “You said that already.”

“Kiss me, David.” Iker whinged, leaning on Villa, who staggered into the bar under the added weight. 

Cesc felt his eyes widen, and he looked at Geri who had a mirrored expression of shock through the haze of alcohol. David and Iker? What? Since when?

Villa looked at Iker with tired eyes. “Not when you’re drunk, querido.” He said quietly. “Besides, it looks like you’ve already been kissed tonight.” He led Iker out of the bar, an arm across his shoulders. 

Cesc stared at the door, before looking back at Geri again. Neither of them said anything for a moment, before-

“Did Iker say Ramos and Torres got married?”

“Since when has Daviker been a thing?” Both of them tried to speak at the same time, and ignored the other. 

“Who the hell would want to marry _Ramos_?” 

“Why didn’t Iker tell me?”

They both had their priorities.

~*~

Sergio groaned and pulled the duvet over his head. It was credit to how much his head hurt that when his groan was answered, he didn’t jump out of the bed screaming. 

He recognised the sound shortly afterwards anyway. 

“Fer?” He grumbled, and tried to move the duvet slightly. Bright sunlight met his vision, and he quickly covered his eyes again.

Fernando was apparently less coherent than he was, as the only response was a drawn out, pained groan. 

“Why did you let me drink that much…” Sergio moaned, rubbing at his eyes and freezing. 

Something metal touched his face.

He threw the duvet off, sitting up and not registering the sudden light change. 

There was a ring on his right ring finger. 

“Fer, Fer get up now.” He poked at the unresponsive lump next to him. 

More groaning was followed by movement, and eventually, two sleepy brown eyes blinked up at him. His heart relaxed slightly at the freckles and rumpled hair, but still.

“What did we do last night?” He asked, trying not to panic. 

Fernando yawned, before closing his eyes in pain. “Ur…”

Sergio’s phone buzzed next to him, and he opened the messages. His eyes widened.

_‘congratulations to the happy couple ;P’_

He wordlessly passed the phone to Fernando, who stared at the screen blankly.

“So…”

“Yeah.”

Silence settled for a couple of seconds, during which Sergio saw the matching flash of gold on Fernando’s finger. For some reason, it made him smile.

“We should probably get a divorce.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of them moved.

“We can do it tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” 

*

Iker rolled over, smiling slightly at the familiar cologne on the pillow next to him. It was comforting, nice. He frowned as he realised the other side of the bed was empty. 

He sat up in the bed and tried to keep his voice level. “David?”

The striker appeared instantly from the bathroom, only a towel wrapped around his waist, and Iker relaxed. And something more, when he noticed the jut of David’s hipbone over the top of the towel. He unconsciously licked his lips.

“Are you ok, Iker?” Iker jerked his head back up to David’s face, and noticed for the first time the worry.

“Yes?” He questioned. Why wouldn’t he be?

David vanished again, before reappearing with a pair of jeans.

“How do you feel?” He asked, concerned. He sat down across from him and stared into Iker’s eyes intently.

Iker laughed uncertainly. “Fine. David, what’s wrong?”

His boyfriend stared at him with an unreadable expression. “How much of last night do you remember?”

Well, that was the million euro question. He tried to think back, but there was just a blank. He remembered staring at the younger players with no idea how to talk to them, but after that…

“I must have got drunk at some point…” He mused, and David raised his eyebrows. “How come I don’t have a hangover?”

It was meant to be rhetorical, but David scratched at one eyebrow, looking away from Iker to the wall instead. “I made you drink about four glasses of water when we got back here.”

Iker wanted to coo; David was such a sweet person behind the bitch faces and death glares. But something was off. He got up to use the bathroom. He left the offer of a shower in the air, and was surprised when he got no reaction from the other man. 

He locked the door, and glanced in the mirror, before stopping to stare. Crap, he was a mess. His hair was messed up, his eyes were tired, but it was the glaring hickey on his neck that grabbed his attention. 

He stuck his head out of the bathroom. “David, I swear, what did we say about marking!” He mock glared, but his blood ran cold when David didn’t laugh, only turned with tired eyes from where he was still sat on the bed.

“That wasn’t me, Iker.”

Oh. _Oh_.

Now he remembered something; a stranger in a dark bar, but he hadn’t looked like a stranger. The only things Iker had noticed had been the soul patch, the dark hair, and the fact he was shorter. 

Shit.

“Guaje, please, you have to believe me, I would never do that on purpose.” He sank down opposite David, taking one of his hands in his own. He felt horrible.

“I know, Iker. But you still did it.” David replied bitterly, refusing to look at him. That was the bit that hurt. 

“What can I do, how can I make this better?” He asked desperately. There was no point using too many words on David. Iker had known him for long enough to know he was probably just tuning them out.

David tried to smile. He failed. “I don’t know, Iker. Are you going to do it again?” 

He felt awful that David even had to ask, but it was certainly merited after last night.

“No.” One word was all he needed – anything else was redundant to both of them. There was no way he was going to risk what he had with David twice.

“Well, I guess we’ll just have to try and move on then.” David finally looked up, a sad smile on his face.

“I love you, David.” Was his only response, because he had never been so sure of anything else. When had he got so lucky?

That prompted a proper smile. “I love you too, Capitán.”

Silence for a moment, until; 

“What was he like?” It was tentative, and David looked down when he asked. Iker could tell what he was really asking.

Iker smiled in a way he hoped was reassuring. “He had a soul patch, but he was rubbish at kissing, and a bit too tall. He wasn’t you.”

*

Xabi woke to the sound of his ring tone and his phone spasming on the wooden table next to his bed. He picked it up blearily, not bothering to check the caller ID.

“Xabi?” The nervous English voice on the other end woke him up properly, and reminded him of the beginnings of a hangover. Last night was a bit blurry – he only remembered some vague gambling, and some very fine whiskey.

“Steven?” He asked, confused. They only spoke a couple of days ago, didn’t they? It must have been an emergency. “What’s wrong?” 

“I’m not angry or anything, but I got a call earlier saying I’m the legal property of Caesar’s Palace casino in Las Vegas. Is there anything you want to tell me?”

Xabi felt his eyes widen.

Fuck.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry Stevie, this whole thing came from the two ideas of a drunken Sernando wedding and Xabi betting Stevie. And then losing the bet. Don't know when Iker being an awful dad figure slipped in, or Geri and Cesc tormenting Leo. And don't even ask about Silva and tentacle porn, I really wonder what's wrong with me sometimes.
> 
> Funny story, this was meant to be just pure crack, but then Villa/Casillas crept on me after a prompt at the new kinkmeme reminded me how lovely they are, and I'd already written in slutty Iker by that point. So idk, sorry for the angst bummer. But alas, fluff. I couldn't resist the Sernando.
> 
> Also, "you've got cheap shoes" is an actual insult somebody yelled at Ian Duncan Smith, the scumbag British minister for work and pensions who has spent the last five years screwing over people who are unfit for work and rely on benefits. This person had followed him out of a meeting and called him a bell-end. They felt it necessary to comment on his shoes at this point as well. #britishpride
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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